


shake my world and i'll set yours on fire

by AllTheNamesIWantedWereUsed



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Family Issues, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fill, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, badassery, possibly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2018-12-03 20:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11539437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTheNamesIWantedWereUsed/pseuds/AllTheNamesIWantedWereUsed
Summary: When you turn eighteen, your soulmate's name appears on your body, right near the first words you'll ever hear them speak to you.Daisy always wondered why the hell she would have "The yard's closing" right next to the name Roberto Reyes.Now she knows, and it's a bit concerning for her soulmate to be possessed by a demon(?) with a flaming skull.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fierysky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fierysky/gifts).



> Prompt filled for Fierysky, who requested a soulmate AU.
> 
> Would've put this with the others, but I think it's going to be longer.

“Excuse me.”

 

The voice is light, female, and practically glides across the space between them, and it makes his hands want to curl into fists because it’s the _worst possible time_ for someone to come. The Rider screams in his head, urging him to hurry up and go, to paint the streets with sinners’ blood.

 

He hears those two words from customers and strangers he bumps into all the time, and it never fails to put him on edge. How could it not, when those same words are scrawled across the dip of his collarbone, right under the name of the person he's supposedly meant for?

 

Whoever they are, they'd want nothing to do with him if they ever found out about the other guy.

 

Securing the door that’s hiding the Charger, he turns to see the speaker. Her hands are stuffed in her pockets, her shoulders drawn in like she's trying to protect herself, but there's a precision in her step as she comes closer and a feeling of unease hanging in the air that frays his nerves.

 

“The yard’s closing,” he tells her, walking towards her and she freezes in her tracks.  “To sell a junker, you can call the number on the gate-”

 

“Oh, no, I’m not here for that,” she says, and maybe it’s his paranoia talking, but there’s definitely a double meaning there, and he doesn’t like it. “I, uh, sorry, what’s your name?” she asks, clearly thrown off by something.

 

“Robbie,” he answers, a little impatiently.

 

“Robbie,” she repeats. “That short for anything?”

 

“That really important right now?”

 

She crosses one foot over the other, a distinct unease in her expression. He just stares at her, and she’s forced to laugh the awkwardness off.

 

“Well, Robbie, I am looking for a guy with a sweet black ‘69 Charger,” she says, “Maybe he bought some parts here?”

 

She’s following The Rider? It’s not that it hasn’t happened before, but he’s always dealt with it. This time, something feels off.

 

“Sorry, doesn’t ring a bell,” he says, blatantly lying to her face, but if she doesn’t leave soon, he has a feeling she’d become dangerous real quick. “I only work nights once a week.”

 

“Oh, well, maybe I’ll-I’ll come back in the morning. Thank you.” She gives him a look he can only describe as apprehensive as she turns on her heel to leave.

 

Shit. No, that would be worse, with all his co-workers around- The Rider shrieks for him to leave, but he grits his teeth and says, “Or, there’s a book of sales you can flip through in the main office. Not really an office, more like a trailer-” He’s rambling now, “I can show you.”

 

She turns back around. “That would be great, thank you.”

 

He turns, feeling uneasy about turning his back on her, but what choice does he have? Glancing back at her, he sees she’s started following his lead.

 

She doesn’t look like too much of a threat: short, thin frame, dark hair, and big brown eyes that would be disarming if it weren’t for the lethal coolness behind them.

 

But, they say knowledge is power, and it feels like she has far too much of that.

 

She catches up to him just as they reach the office. “That’s it there,” he says, pointing. She smiles and starts walking ahead.

 

“What did you say your name was?” he asks, hoping, praying that she doesn’t say the same name that’s been burned into his mind since he turned eighteen.

 

“I didn’t,” she answers, and he waits for her to tell him, but she doesn’t. That does absolutely nothing for his nerves.

 

“Do you live around here?” he tries.

 

“No, but I used to-”

 

 _Lie,_ The Rider hisses.

 

“-I’m just in town for a few days, soaking up the sun.”

 

“Strange place to spend your vacation,” he says, tightening his grip on his keys, and they rattle. She slows down a bit, then comes to a full stop as he says, “Not a great neighborhood.”

 

She stops and turns to face him, dismay on her features, already anticipating him trying something, her gaze flicking down to the keys in his hand.

 

Just his luck that he would meet and have to kill his soulmate at the same time, he thinks, _if_ that’s who she is, as he throws the first punch.

 

It never lands. She throws out a hand, and a force hurls him backwards into an old van covered in graffiti.

 

What the hell?

 

He off and picks up a nearby piece of long scrap metal. It goes up in flames, and he sees the shock on her face as he says, “So, you got the devil inside you too.”

 

_Good to know._

 

Her face sets in determination, and she charges towards him as he swings his makeshift weapon.

 

She’s nothing like he expected, meeting him blow for blow, blasting the flaming metal out of his hands. It lands in the dry grass and goes up too.

 

She’s definitely not normal, the way she moves just as fast as him, the way her punches actually land, the way she manages to throw him to the ground.

 

If she’s his soulmate, what a deadly pair they’d make, that is, if they weren’t trying to kill each other at this very moment.

 

Somehow, that seems only fitting.

 

He gets to his feet, but she throws out a hand, and that same unnatural force pins him to a heavy steel shelf.

 

Her hand, still pulsing with same force, lays flat on his chest, and he wants to laugh, thinking about how his mark is just under her fingers, separated only by a few layers of clothing, but even with those layers, her touch sends electric shocks where her fingers graze the dark letters. Instead, he snarls at her.“You shouldn’t have gotten involved.”

 

“Serial killers always complain when we try to intervene,” she counters.

 

“I only kill _asesinos_ who deserve it,” he snaps. “It’s vengeance, _chica.”_

 

“For what?” she hisses. “You killed a detective.”

 

He can’t help but grin. Someone’s done research, but clearly not enough. “But he had blood on his hands.”

 

Her fist flies through the air, slicing open his cheekbone, and even in all the heat and fire and sweat, he can feel warm blood trickling down his face.

 

“A teacher!” she shouts.

 

“A pedophile!” he fires back. Lashing out, he escapes her grasp, but she swings her leg up and her foot lands squarely in ribs, sending him into the shelf and toppling it.

 

“You don’t get to decide who deserves to die,” she says.

 

The Rider is hissing inside him, wanting to take control, and he knows that if he doesn’t let it, his problem could get worse. Looking up at her, he can feel his eyes turning to embers. “I’m not the one who decides.”

 

And then he changes, feels the fire taking over, the need for revenge, and sees the shock in her eyes.

 

And then The Rider takes over, and Robbie Reyes is nothing more than a passenger.

 

It sends her sprawling with one blow, and knocks over a shelf, threatening to crush her. Her hands fly up, and the shelf and its contents vibrate in midair. The Rider kneels down next to her, and she glares up at it.

 

It expects her to beg, to plead for mercy, but there’s a very different reaction instead.

 

“Do it,” she gasps, “I deserve it.”

 

The Rider cocks its head at her, searching her soul.

 

It sees an unnecessarily cloudy conscience, and a young woman who puts all the blame on herself regardless, which is irritating and rather unreliable, because how is one to supposed to judge fairly when only presented with biased information?

 

“Do it,” she urges it.

 

She isn’t guilty, not really, and she isn’t a sinner. As far as it can see, she’s just a girl in the throes of grieving.

 

She isn’t worth killing.

 

Unless they have more proof, that is.

 

But there's no point. Besides, there’s no way she’ll come back after this. No one is that stupid.

 

Best to just leave her here and let her lick her wounds so she can run away later.

 

The Rider stands up and walks away, leaving her there. In the time it takes for her to roll aside, narrowly miss being crushed and regain her bearings, it’s already in the Charger and drives off, melting back into Robbie Reyes, leaving him to wonder what the hell just happened.

 

Later, when he gets home and Gabe is asleep, his mark is still tingling.

 

This is definitely a problem.

* * *

 

Robbie.

 

His name is Robbie.

 

She can only think of two names that would have that nickname, and she definitely doesn’t want it to be one of them.

 

Upon further investigation/hacking, to her chagrin, she finds out what it's short for, the last name too, and wants to throw her laptop against a wall.

 

God _damnit._

 

Just her luck that the guy who murders people in the street and has a flaming skull would be her soulmate.

 

She can hear it now.

 

_“How did you two meet?”_

 

_“Well, we sort of tried to kill each other.”_

 

Jesus Christ, what else is the universe going to chuck at her?

 

She must have touched the mark at some point during their fight because her hand feels like it’s fallen asleep, all pins and needles, which is odd enough, but it’s been doing this ever since they fought, and that was hours ago.

 

This is definitely a problem.


	2. Chapter 2

Mrs. Serrano runs the bodega three blocks away from Robbie’s house. She’s got two kids in their sophomore and freshman year and owns an old red VW bug that breaks down almost as much as the bodega’s coffee machines.

 

Normally, he’d start a conversation with her as she signs the paperwork for the repairs, but his attention is taken away by the dark burgundy van parked behind the fence line. He recognizes it from this morning, and though he smiles at Mrs. Serrano as she trades the clipboard for her papers,  he’s fighting to keep from wearing a very different expression. Glancing around, he sets the clipboard in a tool crate and exchanges it for a crowbar, concealing it as he walks towards the van.

 

He jerks open the door, ready to clock whoever’s inside, but no one’s there and the unease it evokes claws at his consciousness all the way back into the shop.

 

He’s too wrapped up in his thoughts to hear the conversation Canelo is having with a customer until his boss says, “Hey, Robbie, so this girl says she knows you is telling me-”

 

“Robbie Reyes,” a familiar voice says, almost smugly, and he stiffens at hearing that voice. _You’ve gotta be kidding me._ “You look so different from the last time I laid eyes on you.”

 

He turns around and his concerns are only confirmed when he sees the girl from last night, his possible soulmate, leaning against the break counter, holding a mug of coffee

 

“Long time, no see,” she says, and there’s a taunting glint in her eye that he really doesn’t appreciate.

 

“Yeah, it's been a minute,” he replies through gritted teeth.

 

“I was just telling Canelo here how tight we used to be back at Garfield High,” she says, flashing Canelo a sweet smile. “The stories I could tell…”

 

He forces a smile. “What are you doing here?” he asks, and the demand is clear.

 

“I’m having trouble with my van,” she says innocently. “Yesterday, out nowhere, it just _burst into flames,”_ she emphasizes, feigning shock. “And I hear you’re kind of an expert at that sort of thing so I figured it was time for us to reconnect.” Her smirk is hidden by the coffee mug, and she arches an eyebrow at him like a dare.

 

What the hell?

* * *

 

He can’t believe this.

 

He can’t fucking believe this.

 

She came _back_ , in broad _daylight,_ and now she’s chatting up his co-workers with a cup of coffee. What the fuck is she thinking?

 

It’s becoming clearer and clearer to him, her death wish. The words she spoke to The Rider last night are obvious proof, but this is next-level insanity.

 

He works on her van, pretending like everything’s fine as he says, “I don’t know, looks fine to me.” He’s tempted to sabotage her van, but his pettiness is outweighed by his desire for her to leave as soon as possible.

 

“The engine caught fire, how is that not a _dangerous problem?”_ she says, incredulous.

 

“Maybe you should leave it alone,” he replies. “So you don’t get hurt,” He lowers his voice so his coworkers don’t hear, “Or smoked.” He climbs inside her van to continue his premise of trying to help her.

 

“You claim your victims earn that,” she says quietly. “Hard to verify all of them.”

 

“Somehow, you tracked me down,” he replies, trying to keep his tone level.

 

“Just to talk. I figure you’re either on the right side of things, or-”

 

“Or what?” he dares her. “Or else?” He shakes his head. “You’re out of your mind coming here. You know who I am but you don’t know me-”

 

“It’s funny you should say that,” she says, loud enough for the others. “I was just thinking of how many memories I have of you, Reyes,” she says, an edge of fake fondness in her voice. “Not this too-cool-for-school version you got going on now, but...the real you.”

 

“He wasn’t always the strong, silent type?” Canelo chuckles.

 

“Well, I’ve known him since, what, Crandall Elementary?” He tenses. How the fuck does she know what school he went to as a kid? Just his luck. His soulmate’s a stalker. “He was always quiet,” the girl goes on, “like he was hiding something. The two of us used to hit up the Moonraker Arcade down in Little Tokyo, isn’t that right, Robbie?”

 

He just glares at her.

 

“Yeah, it is,” she affirms, “So I’ve seen a side of him that most people haven’t. We used to hang there everyday until your uncle would pick us up. How’s he doing these days?”

 

If she knows what elementary school he went to then she knows damn well how Uncle Eli is doing these days, and her feigned ignorance pisses him off.

 

“You get lost,” he says, his tone dangerous as he leans towards her. “Or I’ll get angry, so angry I may not remember what I do to you. Sometimes I prefer it that way.” What a farce it would be if he ended up killing his soulmate. She stares him down almost defiantly.

 

“In front of them?” she asks coolly, referring to his co-workers, and this is exactly what he was trying to avoid and look where it got him. He swears to himself, but knows he can’t press it here, so he backs down just long enough to say, “It’s just a hose loose. You’re all good.” He starts her van to prove his point.

 

She lifts a hand, and he can feel vibrations trembling the van until there’s a horrible rattling and smoke starts to drift upwards.

 

“Oh, no, look at that,” she says, and he glares at her. “Looks like we’ll be here a little bit longer.”

 

He can’t fucking believe this.

* * *

 

No matter what he does, she keeps messing with the van, clearly trying to prolong her stay here, and Canelo won’t let him leave, something about how Robbie needs “to play catch up with more old friends.”

 

He slams the van’s hood down before snapping, “What do you want?”

 

“I looked into your kills,” she says as he passes her to reach a toolbox. “Some of them check out.”

 

“I told you, it’s-”

 

“Vengeance,” she finishes. “Well, vengeance seems to put you on the same track as me. So tell me what you know.”

 

Jesus Christ, what is she playing at? “Look, detective, they got what they deserved, end of story.”

 

“Alright, I’ll tell you what I know,” she says. “There’s a group called the Watchdogs. They’re hunting people like us.”

 

Us? He’s the only Rider he’s ever known.

 

“Us,” he repeats.

 

Her brow furrows. “Inhumans,” she clarifies.

 

Ah. He scoffs. “That’s not what I am.”

 

“Look, I know what you’re going through, I’ve been there and I know that it’s hard to understand-’ Sympathy is new from her. He doesn’t want it.

 

“You here to counsel me? You want to save my soul?” he says quietly. “I’m telling you, girl, I sold mine.”

 

She looks thrown by the that. “To the devil,” she says in disbelief.

 

“He was the only buying, you know?” he says with a tight grimace.

 

She clearly doesn’t know what to say to that.

 

“Look, I’m done talking,” he says, stepping closer. “You want to throw down again, we could do that. I like my chances. You want to turn me in? Try it. I got nothing to lose.”

 

“You may not but Gabe might be a little sad to lose his big brother,” she says, and his blood runs cold, then white hot at the mention of his brother’s name. “You’re all he’s got.”

 

His heart thuds in his hears, with anxiety or anger or something when he hears Canelo call, “Robbie! Listen, I got to take the truck, drop off the GTO in Palm Desert.”

 

“Take all the time you need,” he replies, locking eyes with the girl. “I’ll lock up.”

 

 _“Andale. Mañana,”_ Canelo bids farewell, and shop door clangs shut. At the sound, he breaks eye contact, and grabs a wrench from the nearby toolbox. “Now, you? You shouldn’t have mentioned my brother,” he hisses and both his eyes and the wrench catch fire. Between Gabe and some girl who might be his soulmate, he’ll choose his brother every time.

 

She backs away and around the van, and he follows. “It doesn’t have to go this way,” she says, and he wants to laugh, because they’re way past that.

 

“You’re wrong,” he replies, and in response she aims her hands at the car near them propped up for repairs and it comes down, a metal wall between them. Ricky Sanchez is gonna be pissed about his car.

 

He drops the wrench but rips the exhaust pipe off the car, turning to see her wincing and holding her arm. Seems her powers take a toll.

 

She doesn’t seem to give up though, and sends a heavy cart rolling towards him, but it’s not hard to jump to the side and avoid it. She manages to evade the first few swipes, but then he brings it down on the arm she throws up to shield herself, and whatever pain she’s already experiencing plus his blow sends her to the ground.

 

It doesn’t take much to knock her out.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment/kudos, please! I'm working on the second chapter rn, but let me know how the first went.


End file.
